He paused at her remark, his hand on the doorknob. "Thanks," he said quietly, and unlocked the door.

The fact that they hadn't really talked about this before wasn't because he didn't trust her, honestly. He just didn't like talking about himself. It wasn't something he did. For the longest time, he'd been a ghost, invisible, a nonentity. 'I send you because you don't exist.'

He walked into the room. After all this time he was mostly able to suppress the pang of longing he felt whenever he walked in - to be actually back in Goa before everything went wrong, instead of this facsimile of it. He probably should change it; but he didn't really want to, and besides, he didn't know how.